The Dark Mountain
by Musical Intervention
Summary: A year after the Titan War, Camp Half-Blood discovers its next, great enemy: the ancient gods of other civilizations. When the norse god, Loki, starts causing trouble, Percy, Zoey, and Saiorse set off to stop him, encountering an alluring and dangerous demigod along the way. AU. Percy/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Zoey

Until a massive werewolf tore apart the mall and tried to bite her head off, Zoey had liked dogs.

She'd been watching one –– a fat golden retriever puppy –– for about an hour, listening to strangers coo as it waddled, sneezed, and barked on a looping video in the back of the Apple store. It played over and over on a giant screen, framed by an iPhone made of cardboard and plastic. This set-up had been cool at first, but after fifty-seven minutes in line, the "crystal-clear picture" seemed a little less appealing and the yapping fluff-ball was a little more annoying.

All Zoey really wanted was to reach the front of the line, hand a blue-shirted Genius her Macbook, and hear the words, "Come back in seven days." She had resigned herself to a week without Netflix and could survive the temper tantrums of her dad's old Gateway. It was the crowd that bothered her. Did all of these people _really_ need the new iPad right _now_?

As if reading Zoey's mind, one if the women in line began talking in a loud, irritating voice. "Excuse me," she called, addressing any employee who would listen. "My son and I have been waiting for nearly _one _hour. The service here is outrageous. As paying customers, we're entitled to ––" Before she could finish, a Genius appeared at her elbow, interrupting her with a pleasant smile.

The employee was a girl, a few years older than Zoey –– probably around eighteen or nineteen. She had a lanyard dangling from her neck and there was a pair of headphones, wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. She was quite pretty, despite the unpleasant shade of her T-shirt, and had long, auburn curls hanging down her back.

"I'm terribly sorry for the wait, ma'am," she said in an accent that didn't sound American. "We have just a few more customers to help and then we'll be right with you. Are you looking for anything special today?"

The woman nodded, though she seemed a little confused. "We need the new iPad," she announced.

Zoey rolled her eyes.

The girl, however, didn't seem annoyed or even phased. "How lucky!" she exclaimed. "We got a shipment of iPads in, just yesterday."

"How lucky," the woman echoed, her eyes becoming slightly unfocused.

"You'll be at the front of the line before you know it," the Genius added, cheerfully. "Until then, we have a _lovely_ new display at the back of the store. You can see it from here –– isn't the puppy adorable?"

"Yes," the woman mumbled. "Adorable." She turned toward the screen, staring at the retriever like it was the most interesting thing in the world. She seemed almost to forget the girl in front of her, which Zoey thought was incredibly rude. The Genius, though, didn't seem to mind.

She still had that blinding smile on her face, but it faded quickly. Her eyes darkened, turning from the color of grass to a hard, intelligent peridot. She kept them fixed on the woman for another second, then she blinked and refocused on Zoey.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, Zoey dropped her gaze to the floor. She watched her suede boots until she thought she was safe, then she let her eyes drift toward the girl. Surprisingly, she didn't have the industrial sneakers that the rest of the Geniuses wore; nor, Zoey realized, was she wearing the usual khaki pants uniform. Beneath her overlong, periwinkle T-shirt, the girl wore a pair of skinny jeans and long, riding boots.

_Strange, _Zoey thought. _I didn't know they let Geniuses wear skinny jeans_.

She glanced up again, hoping she'd gotten away with eavesdropping, but the girl was still watching her. Her eye color had changed again, this time, to a buttery shade of hazel. Suddenly, she nodded.

"Have you seen the new Macbooks?" she asked, her accent even more evident. "They're _mi daza._"

"Sorry?" Zoey blinked. "Me _what_?"

The girl shrugged, then turned on her heel, heading for the back of the store. As she walked, she pulled an iPhone out of her back pocket and began tapping furiously against its screen. She was still typing as she pushed through a back door marked "Employee's Only" and disappeared.

_What was that all about?_ Zoey wondered.

She shook her head, turning away from the door in confusion, and took a quick look at the woman who'd complained. She wasn't complaining anymore, that was for sure: she was still so intent on the tumbling puppy, that she didn't seem to notice her son tugging on her sleeve. _Okay_, Zoey thought. _Something weird is happening here_. She glanced behind her to see if anyone else had noticed, and her eyes landed on the Macbooks that the girl had mentioned. _Me daa-zuh?_ Had that been another language? What did it mean? Before Zoey could even begin to puzzle it out, she realized that yet another person was staring at her.

It wasn't a Genius this time, but a middle-aged man. He looked like someone's dad, only with _huge_ biceps. Seriously, the guy could've been the frontman for _Weight Lifting Today _or one of those TV wrestling tournaments she never watched. _He would probably need to shave, though_, she thought. Another thing about the guy: he was _hairy_. He had grizzled, wavy hair, hanging to his shoulders in a thick, salt-and-pepper curtain. His face and neck were covered in wiry, black hair and –– Zoey's nose wrinkled –– a clump of the stuff was peeking out from beneath his muscle shirt.

_That V-neck was probably a bad choice_, she thought.

For a second, she almost thought the man had heard her because his eyes narrowed and his lips curled back to reveal grimy, yellow teeth. She grimaced, wondering if he'd ever seen a dentist. He must've seen someone to get his teeth that pointy. Maybe he was one of those Gothic dudes who got their teeth filed down to look like a snake's. Or a wolf's.

Zoey wasn't sure if it was her imagination but, as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she started to notice other features, things that made the man look positively _doglike_. Was it just her or did his nose look a bit like a snout? And had his eyes always been that shade of greenish-yellow? Either way, she didn't like the way he was staring at her. He looked almost...hungry.

She saw movement just beyond her vision and turned in time to see the line moving forward. A young couple hurried by with matching iPods and Zoey realized, to her relief, that she was only five people from the front. She hugged her broken computer to her chest and stepped forward, trying to ignore the prickly feeling on the back of her neck. She could feel the hairy guy watching her. _Ugh_, she thought, _I can't wait to get out of here_.

The crowd behind her was starting to grumble and, glancing over her shoulder, Zoey realized that the complainer was _still_ staring at the iPhone display. She hadn't moved a muscle in five minutes and her immobility had cut a large gap in the line.

"Hey!" Someone yelled. "You, in the green. The line's moving forward!"

Normally, Zoey wouldn't have gotten involved. The anxious voices and shuffling feet annoyed her –– the woman was in front of them and she had the right to take her time, if she wanted. But something about her slack face and blank gaze, something about the way she was ignoring her son, made Zoey nervous.

"Excuse me?" she asked, turning around fully. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Two things happened at once.

The woman blinked twice, finally tearing her eyes from the screen, and refocused on the store around her. Her lips were pursed, like she'd tasted something unpleasant, but before she could say anything, her haughty gaze turned terrified. Zoey had just enough time to notice that the hairy dude has disappeared before the woman let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"_What is that?_" she shrieked.

Zoey whirled and came face to face with the snarling mouth of a huge, black wolf. Even on all four legs, it was almost six feet tall, complete with jagged fangs, a curved snout, and six-inch, black claws. A rope of saliva hung from its lolling tongue and its yellow eyes were fixed on Zoey.

It lifted a massive paw towards her and she couldn't move. She couldn't even scream. She felt her feet knocked from under her, felt herself hit the ground, felt the air leave her lungs as she slid across the wooden floor. She heard her laptop skitter in another direction and felt bruises forming as she bumped elbows and wrists on the legs of display tables. She didn't have a coherent thought until she slammed into the far wall, colorful, rubber iPhone cases tumbling down around her. And then, the only thing she could think was, _Pink camouflage is really stupid, isn't it?_

By then, the wolf was running towards her, crossing the store in three easy bounds. Its paw hit her in the shoulder and she went sliding again, skidding to a halt in the center of the store, directly above a large Apple logo. She gasped for air, noticing for the first time that her elbow was burning and there was a red-stained gash in her pant leg. _What is going on?_ she thought. _Why is it attacking _me_? Why is it in the mall, in the first place? _Maybe it had escaped from a wildlife display. She tried to think, searching through her memories for one of a zoo exhibit or some sort of exotic pet shop opening at Pheasant Lane Mall.

But the next second, as the creature stalked towards her, she realized that it was much too big to be part of some mall-related showcase: it was ten times bigger –– and more violent –– than any wolf she'd ever seen. Besides, it was pointless to wonder where it came from. All that mattered now was getting away from it.

Unfortunately for Zoey, by the time this thought crossed her mind, the thing was on her. It slowly, deliberately, stepped over her body, pinning her legs to the ground with one giant foot, holding her arms above her head with two others. Her elbow screamed in protest as the beast unsheathed long claws from its last, free paw. It lifted them high into the air, preparing to scratch her face, and Zoey felt her pounding heart stop.

_This is it, _she thought. _I don't even know what's happening and I'm going to die. And I didn't even get my laptop fixed..._

"Demigod scum," a male voice growled. "It thinks it can defeat _me?_"

Zoey was breathing hard, desperately struggling against the creature's heavy feet, but she froze when she realized where the voice had come from. It was the wolf. _It_ was talking to her.

"Puny little halfbreed," the beast continued, "Against the might of the great Fenrir? Ha! Ha! Ha!" Its laughter sounded like barking. "Well, the joke is on _it, _now. I could smell it from miles away. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"What are you talking about?" Zoey asked. She was about to die but, even so, she felt very silly addressing a giant wolf.

"The Great War is coming," the creature said, lifting its deadly paw still higher. "_Ragnarök_. And, when it does, no more demigod scum. And..." Its lips curled back into a terrifying smile. "_Definitely_ no more Greeks."

The knife-like claws dropped towards her but, just before they reached her face, Zoey heard a strange noise. It sounded almost like a cat's mewling.

_"Meow!_"

The sound came again and the wolf's claws retracted. Its yellow eyes moved away from Zoey, focusing towards the back of the store. "What's this?" it snarled, angrily. Almost unaware of its motions, it took a step forward.

Free from the weight of its claws, Zoey scrambled into a crouched position, sliding as far from the wolf as she could get. Her back hit one of the display tables and she pulled herself beneath it, grateful for whatever it was that had just happened. She leaned slightly to her left, peering out to find the source of her salvation.

To her surprise, there _was _a cat in the Apple store. Ten feet from the spot she'd been pinned, beside the now-deserted Genius Bar, there was a small, red kitten, looking piteously up at the wolf with tiny, amber eyes.

"_Meow!_" it cried as the wolf took another step.

Zoey felt her heart sink, realizing that the kitten was about to become wolf food. The beast was stalking towards it with the same murderous expression it had turned on her. Those hungry, yellow eyes that looked almost exactly like...

Zoey gasped.

It couldn't be, but, now that she'd had the thought, she couldn't dismiss it as anything but truth. The wolf, with its shaggy, black fur and ten-inch fangs, was the hairy guy who'd been staring at her. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did. As impossible as it sounded, it was true.

And now the weird hairy guy was about to eat a poor, defenseless kitten.

"_Meow!_" the cat squeaked one more time, just as the wolf reached it, jaws open wide.

Zoey wanted to cry out, wanted to help, but, before she could do anything, a jet of scarlet flame poured from the kitten's mouth and set the wolf's coat ablaze. The beast reared, growling, snapping, _screaming_; every time one of its paws tried to bat at the fire, the blaze _picked itself up_ and moved somewhere else, growing larger and brighter.

The kitten began to lick its paws, obviously satisfied with itself, while Zoey watched in stupefied horror.

_What is this?_ she thought to herself. _Bring your demonic pet to work day?_

The thought had barely crossed her mind when the cat turned its head, as if called, towards the "Employee's Only" door. It swung open to reveal the girl Genius from before, her blue T-shirt replaced with a white button-down and brown leather jacket. She was carrying the same bronze-colored iPhone, still typing furiously. She looked up for just a moment, finding Zoey with no effort at all, and offering her a nod. Then she turned her attention back to the iPhone, tapped it one last time, and turned its headphone jack in the direction of the burning monster.

A tiny knife burst from the hole, growing in midair until it was the size of a spear, glowing the same yellowish color as the iPhone. It sped towards the wolf and, in seconds, collided with the largest spot of flame, which burned on the rearing beast's chest.

The wolf let out a horrific scream. It fell to the ground, eyes rolling into its skull, shrinking rapidly, until it was a normal-sized black dog, twitching on the ground. The girl stepped towards it, joined by the tiny kitten, and crouched down to meet its yellow gaze.

"You haven't seen the last of me," the creature hissed. "This is only the beginning. The Great War is coming. It..."

The girl put her foot on the wolf's windpipe, cutting off its words into a gush of air. "Yeah, yeah, the Great War," she said in that same, lilting accent. "The funny thing about wars is that there's always a winner and a loser." She pushed her boot down harder. "And I guess you just lost."

The wolf exploded into a puff of glittering dust, coating the floor, the displays, and the crowd of people, trembling on the other side of the store. Zoey could do nothing but gape as the girl stepped away from the wolf, moving calmly towards her hiding spot until all she could see was a pair of riding boots.

"Well?" The boots' owner bent into a crouch, peering under the table to look at her. "We best get out of here before the police come along. It'll be tough to explain this one."

Zoey blinked, but the rest of her body felt paralyzed. She stared blankly at the girl.

"Come on, girl. I don't think there are any others, but my Monster App isn't working properly." The girl glanced over her shoulder, impatiently. "If we stay here, more of them _will _come."

"More what?" Zoey breathed.

"More monsters, of course." The girl stuck her hand towards Zoey's. "Now, come on. Get out of there before they arrive."

Zoey took the hand, but made no move to stand up. "Who are you?" she asked.

"M'name's Saoirse," the girl replied. "This is my chimera cub, Pangerbon."

"Your...what?"

"Look, girl," Saiorse said, tugging Zoey up, herself. "We've got to go. All you need to know is that I," she used her free hand to point to herself, "Am a demigod."

"A what?" Zoey asked.

"A demigod," Saiorse repeated. "And so, _mo chuisle, _are you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I still don't own the Greek Gods. But if I did...well, that would be pretty cool.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Zoey

Saiorse didn't let go of Zoey's hand until they'd crossed the entire Pheasant Lane parking lot and walked half a mile down the crowded, city sidewalk. Even then, she wouldn't answer any questions.

At first, being ignored didn't bother Zoey; to be honest, after the obvious "Who are you?" had been answered, she was much too numb to wonder anything else. She didn't really mind that a stranger was dragging her away from her car and her laptop: after all, this stranger had saved her life. As far as she was concerned, the most important question was how fastest to get away from the mall.

But as they left the line of outlying shops and restaurants behind, Zoey began to feel nervous. She had been attacked once today and wasn't about to face-off again with this "demigod" and her fire-breathing kitten. Even if they weren't a threat, she wanted to know what was happening _before_ they dragged her to their Freakish Pet Convention or Great War or whatever.

"What was that wolf thing?" she asked.

"I'll tell you in a moment," was Saiorse's response.

"Okay, but why was it attacking me?" Zoey tried again.

"I'll tell you in a moment."

"Right, but what was the 'Great War' it was talking about? And, speaking of which, why could it talk at all?"

"I will _tell you _in a _moment,_" the other girl hissed.

"What's a demigod?"

This was the point at which Saiorse let go of her hand, eyes changing color yet again as they landed on Zoey. They were dark green now, almost black, and had narrowed into an mask of exasperation. She seemed reluctant to stop walking –– and, despite her misgivings, Zoey couldn't exactly blame her –– but she did slow her pace significantly.

"Demigods," the girl explained, "Are half-god, half-human. That means your mother or father was a deity. There are different types of gods," she counted off on her hands, "Egyptian, Roman, Native American. But, in your case, you're the daughter of a _Greek _god"

Zoey's feet stuttered to a halt.

"_Excuse me?_" she replied.

Her first thought was that this girl was joking, that the wolf attack and subsequent explanation were some sort of elaborate prank, set up by her friends or her father. Even if it wasn't, maybe the stress of the situation had made Saiorse go a little cuckoo. Maybe the girl was one of those mythology nerds, like Jaime from World History, and she was using her interest as a coping mechanism. Maybe she'd been so disturbed by the mutant wolf that she was resorting to nonsense. Or maybe she'd meant that all as a metaphor. Maybe she was just saying it sarcastically, to be mean.

No matter what the explanation, there was no way it was true. Zoey, half _god? _Please. She could barely walk down the school hallway without tripping and this Genius Bar employee expected her to believe she was descended from –– what were the Greek god's names, again? –– Zeus or Hera? She _hardly_ had the strength of twenty men, just ask the girls on her gym class volleyball team. And weren't demigods supposed to be, you know, _beautiful_? Hercules certainly had been, and that Perseus guy. Zoey wasn't bad-looking; in fact, on most days, she considered herself perfectly decent. Her shoulder-length hair was glossy, brown, and almost never frizzed and her eyes were a _nice_ shade of auburn. She looked good in skirts and her light skin let her wear whatever color she wanted. So, yes, Zoey was relatively pretty. But demigod pretty? Ha.

Still, Saiorse had the same annoyed expression as she stopped in the center of the sidewalk, forcing oblivious passersby to walk around her. "I know it's hard to believe," she said. "Trust me, I've been in your position. But it's true. You're a demigod. That's why that thing attacked you. It could _smell_ you. So _please_ hurry along before something else picks up your scent."

Still, Zoey didn't move. _I could smell it from miles away_, she remembered the monster saying. But that didn't mean anything, did it? They were just crazy words to fit in with this crazy day and this crazy, myth-obsessed girl.

"That's impossible," she said, finally. "Everyone knows those gods are just stories. That's why they're called Greek _myths_. They're made-up."

"Made up," Saiorse repeated, flecks of gold appearing in her dark eyes. "All right. How do you explain Fenrir, if all those myths are just _made-up_?"

"I don't know," Zoey admitted. "That's what I want you to tell me."

"_And that's what I'm trying to do!_" Saiorse's impatience finally got the better of her and she let out a high-pitched scream of frustration. "Please," she said, after a moment, her voice painfully calm. "I can't explain this properly, but I know someone who can. If you'll just come with me, I promise to take you to him. For the moment, though, I just want to keep you safe. Isn't that what you want?" She stared, her eyes growing wider by the second, until they looked almost like they could swallow Zoey whole.

Zoey felt herself nod. "Okay," she agreed, softly. "I'll go with you. Just keep your, um, iPhone-knife-thing out."

Saiorse offered her a grim smile. "That I can do."

They were on the outskirts of Nashua, almost to the highway, when Saiorse gestured down a side street and Zoey realized where they were going.

"How do you know where my dad lives?" she asked.

The girl opened her mouth, started to speak, then thought better of it. "It was in our best interest," she said, instead.

"_Our_ best interest?" Zoey repeated. "Who's 'our'?"

"Another question which I'm afraid I can't answer." Saiorse frowned, apologetically. "Let's just get through this first."

"This?"

Before Saiorse could answer, the girls rounded a corner and stopped before a familiar red house. It was nestled at the end of a car-lined street, between two oaks and a large, white colonial. In spite of her situation, Zoey couldn't help feeling safe once she saw it. A string of white smoke curled from the chimney, which meant that her father was home, sitting in front of the fire, probably sketching something. She felt emotion welling up in her throat; all she wanted to do was to run inside and wrap her arms around him, to forget this terrible day had ever happened. All she wanted was to lock herself in the house for the rest of the summer...but Saiorse seemed to have other plans.

"Right," she said, as if she'd read Zoey's mind. "Well, we're here. Do you mind doing me a favor?"

Zoey raised her eyebrows.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost it back there," Saiorse said, grimacing, meaning her words. "You're handling this quite well, _much_ better than some, actually. You've had a rough day and it's only right that you have questions." She held up a hand when Zoey opened her mouth. "But, for the moment, I need to concentrate. I'm going to talk to your father, all right? And, while I do, I'm going to need you to be quiet. It will keep both of you safe."

_Quiet?_ Zoey thought. This was _her_ father they were talking about, _her_ family home. For a moment, she felt indignation tighten in her chest but, after a moment, she nodded. She could be quiet, if it meant protecting her dad.

She followed Saiorse up the front walk, well aware of the dying begonias her dad had forgotten to water and the old paint, peeling from the shutters. The porch steps creaked under their weight and then, with a quick _tap-tap-tap_, Saiorse was knocking on the door.

It took almost thirty seconds for Zoey's dad to yell, "Coming!" but that was normal. Once he was engrossed in a drawing, Mr. Bennet had trouble reacting to the outside world. Zoey felt suddenly guilty for disturbing him: what was Saiorse going to say? _Hello, sir. I was just at the mall with your daughter and we were attacked by a ferocious werewolf. Oh, by the way, one of my parents is a god and I think that your ex-wife might've been one too. _Being patient was not the same as understanding and, even though Zoey was okay with waiting, Saiorse's first answer still felt like a sick joke.

The door opened and she had to stop herself from rushing inside and slamming it shut. Her dad stood there, in his favorite, threadbare sweater, a pencil behind his ear and his eyebrows high.

"Zoey," he said, surprised. "Hello! I didn't think you'd be home until..." He trailed off, distracted, his eyes moving over the empty street in front of their house. "Where is your car? And who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Bennet," Saiorse said, offering her hand with a polite smile. "My name is Saiorse Walsh. I'm a friend of your daughter's. She was having some car trouble at the mall and I happened to pass by. I thought I would give her a lift home."

"How nice of you." Zoey's father seemed oblivious to the absence of another car. "Thank you so much."

Saiorse grinned. "It was no problem. Actually, I was hoping that, in return for helping her, you'd be able to help _me_ with something."

"Of course!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed. "I can pay you for gas or I can ––"

The girl waved him away. "No, no, nothing like that. It has to do with Zoey, actually."

Mr. Bennet's uncertain expression reminded Zoey of someone else, especially when it turned suddenly blank. "With Zoey?" he asked, dully.

"Yes, Mr. Bennet," Saiorse replied. "While we were driving home, Zoey and I were talking about a summer camp in southern New York. We were thinking that it would be a _lovely_ place to spend the next few months. It has swimming and canoeing and painting..."

"Painting," Zoey's father repeated. "Zoey loves painting."

"Does she?" Saiorse asked. "Well, I was actually wondering if she and I could _go_ there –– my, um, _uncle_ is a counsellor and I've talked to him about adding her to the roster on scholarship. He agreed completely. The only thing is, this camp starts _tomorrow_..."

Mr. Bennet's eyebrows rose. "Tomorrow? That's quite a pickle, isn't it?"

With a start, Zoey realized what her father's expression reminded her of. He looked almost exactly like the woman in the Apple Store, who'd been staring at the puppy video for almost twenty minutes, after Saiorse spoke to her...If Zoey didn't know any better, she would think that this girl was hypnotizing her father. But that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

"Mr. Bennet," Saiorse began, suddenly serious. "Would it be okay with you if Zoey came to camp tonight? I promise, I'm a responsible driver and will get her there safely. We'll contact you as soon as we arrive. Zoey will be home by the end of the summer, in time for school, and I can assure you, she'll have a lot of _great_ experiences.

_Summer camp?_ The insanity of Saiorse's words hit Zoey and she felt even more alarmed. She didn't want to go to some summer camp...if one even existed. She didn't know this girl and, even if she did, why would she follow her to some mysterious place in upstate New York? Sure, she wanted answers, but she didn't want them that badly. So, why was her dad nodding like that? "Dad?" Concerned, she took a step forward, ignoring the girl's sharp glance. "Dad, this camp...it's not...if you don't think..."

But Mr. Bennet was smiling. "That sounds lovely," he interrupted. "Really lovely. Learn some new painting techniques for me, okay, Pumpkin? Thank you so much, Miss..." He trailed off, eyes returning to Saiorse.

"Walsh," she supplied. "Thank _you_, sir. Your daughter is in good hands."

_Whose hands? _Zoey wanted to shout, but something stopped her. "Why should I go?" she asked Saiorse instead.

"It's the only place you'll be safe," the other girl answered, glancing at Zoey's dad. "_Both_ of you."

Zoey swallowed, taking in her father's blank face, the strange girl before her, the tiny, red kitten, watching from the sidewalk with round, intelligent eyes. Could she really trust them? An image of the wolf, snarling and humongous, returned to her mind. If it meant protecting herself and her father, could she really afford _not _to?

"What did you say this camp is called?" she asked.

"Camp Half-Blood," Saiorse replied. "Believe me, Zoey. You're going to have the time of your life."

From the doorway, Mr. Bennet added, "I'll get the suitcase."

* * *

So...any ideas on whose child Saiorse is? How about Zoey?

Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Saiorse

The trip to Camp Half-Blood was not as smooth as Saiorse would have liked but, then again, almost nothing that day had gone right.

First of all, the Monster App, updated last week to detect _all_ mythological creatures, had failed to notify her of a werewolf's presence until it was literally _on top of_ her charge.

Second, the battery power on her celestial bronze iPhone was lower than it had been in months –– just below 85% –– as a result of her hasty spear generation. She hated to have it under 90, especially when so many Battle App's required large amounts of power. And, at the rate she was going, she would have to charge it overnight. That was always inconvenient, especially in the Aphrodite Cabin, with so many blowdryers and hair straighteners and gods knew what else hogging the electrical outlets.

Third, Argus had been later than usual and the deviation had left her totally on edge.

And then there were all the _questions_.

Saiorse had known about Greek gods and monsters for so long that _not_ knowing was no more than a distant memory. She had foggy recollections of her sixth birthday in Ireland, back when her parents were alive, back when she had more family than a fake uncle, Chiron, and a cabin of siblings who hated her. Self-obsessed, they called her or just plain obsessed. But that was the way she was, the way she'd been since her parents died: she always needed a quest and _always_ needed a plan. And Zoey Bennet's list of questions, ones she vaguely remembered asking thirteen years ago, kept her from making a plan.

One of their conversations, if you could call it that, had gone like this:

Zoey: Is Camp Half-Blood really in New York?

Saiorse: Yes.

Zoey: And it has swimming and painting?

Saiorse: Among other things.

Zoey: What kind of other things? Saiorse? Did you hear me?

Another, barely two minutes after Saiorse's vaguest response yet, had gone:

Zoey: What sort of accent is that?

Saiorse: Irish.

Zoey: And your name, Sher-_sha_. That's Irish, too?

Saiorse: _Ser_-sha. It's Gaelic. Means 'freedom'.

Zoey: Cool! So which part of Ireland are you from?

Saiorse: Dublin. Now, if you don't mind...

As the Camp Half-Blood van rattled down Interstate 90, Argus' many eyes looking through the windshield, the prattle became so continuous and distracting that, when it cut off suddenly, Saiorse felt startled by its absence.

"Zoey?" she asked, turning around from the passenger seat, already cursing herself. But when she saw the other girl's sickly, white face and pained expression, all her annoyance vanished, replaced with fear. Was something wrong? She hadn't planned for that. "Zoey," she repeated, more urgently. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

A second glance told her that the girl had rolled up a pant leg, revealing a deep gash in her knee. The skin around it was stained scarlet and, though its flow was gradual, more blood was leaking out, dripping down her leg. It didn't look like the work of a werewolf's claw; more likely, it had happened as Zoey slid across the Apple Store, batted around like a child's rag doll. Either way, it looked horribly painful. And bloody. Saiorse took a breath.

_What kind of warrior are you?_ she chastised herself, not for the first time. _Afraid of blood, afraid of anything unexpected_. They didn't make anxiety medication for demigods so it was lucky for her that this was an easy fix.

"Nasty cut." Saiorse forced herself to sound nonchalant. "Here, eat one of these."

Zoey took the piece of ambrosia between two fingers and, though she continued to grimace, lifted it up to her eyes to examine. "What is it?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Ambrosia, food of the gods," Saiorse explained, trying to ignore the younger girl's narrowed eyes. "Look, believe what you want, but it'll make you feel better. And if I wanted to poison you, don't you think I'd have done it already?"

"That's reassuring," Zoey replied, plopping the stuff in her mouth, anyway. It took a few minutes but, soon enough, the cut on her leg was no more than a scab and some bloodstains. "Oh my god," the girl whispered. "Is that even possible?"

"Clearly."

For twenty minutes, there was blissful silence as Zoey tried to rationalize her quick-healing and Saiorse tried to figure out what to say to Chiron. _Hi, Uncle,_ she imagined saying. _So, I know you stationed me in Nashua to protect Zoey Bennet and, if possible, bring her to camp. Well, I did, so, that's the good news. The bad news is that, in the process, she got attacked by a gigantic werewolf. A gigantic _Norse _werewolf, called Fenrir. And he brought up the 'Great War' again..._

He was _not_ going to be happy.

Before Saiorse could think of a less catastrophic-sounding explanation, Nancy Drew piped up from the backseat: "So, what did you do to my dad?" and, sighing, she realized that the easiest thing to do would be to answer.

"It's called charmspeak," she admitted, after a moment. "It's a gift from my mother, Aphrodite. It lets me, um, _influence_ other people's thinking, temporarily. Bend them to my will and such." As an afterthought she added, "It's a bit like hypnosis."

Zoey, though, was still stuck on the first part of her explanation. "Hang on," she said, when Saiorse had finished. "You're telling me that your mom is _Aphrodite?_ Goddess of love and all that?"

Saiorse rolled her eyes: she _loathed_ that association. "Yes," she said, flatly. "Goddess of love 'and all that.' Love, beauty, fertility, and the protection of sailors. That's my birth-mam."

The other girl didn't look convinced. "Uh huh...well, sorry, but this half-god thing is still a bit out there for me."

"That's alright." Saiorse shrugged, not caring anymore. "You don't have to believe it. You'll see soon enough. It _is_ true."

Zoey raised her eyebrows.

"Right." How could she describe it? "Have you ever done something...something that you couldn't, uh, explain?"

"What is this, _Harry Potter_?" Zoey asked, not unkindly.

Saiorse laughed. "A bit like him, yeah 'Cept some of the things at Camp Half-Blood will make him look like a bit of a sap."

"Is that right?" Zoey was laughing too, but her grin faded slowly. "All this," she said, "All this _magic_. It's real? It's really happening?"

"It's really happening," Saiorse confirmed. "Argus _really_ has eyes all over his body, we're _really _going to a camp for deities, and Fenrir the Wolf _really_ attacked you in the middle of a crowded Apple Store."

The girl's eyes brightened. "Speaking of which, why were _you _in the Apple Store, in the first place?"

Saiorse frowned, wondering if she should tell the truth; she decided, after a moment, that it was for the best. "I was waiting for _you_," she confessed. "Any other demigod would've been reported, but I was sent, specifically, to keep an eye out for you. We wanted you to come to Camp Half-Blood –– it's really rare that a demigod survive without incident for as long as you have. We thought your luck might run out soon and we were right. We've been waiting for quite some time."

Unsurprisingly, Zoey started to fidget. A new series of questions appeared across her face: _Can I trust people who've been watching me for gods know how long? Can I trust this weird girl, when she's a member of this 'we'?_

"You can trust me," Saiorse answered.

That just made Zoey more uncomfortable.

"Who's 'we'?" she finally asked.

Saiorse took a breath before answering. "Uh, the staff at Camp Half-Blood. Chiron, who I call my uncle, but obviously isn't related to me –– you'll get what I mean when you see him. I guess some of the campers have heard about you, but they tend not to pay attention when I'm talking about quests..." _Oops_. She hadn't planned on confessing that.

"What do you mean?" Zoey questioned.

It was Saiorse's turn to look uncomfortable. "Well, let's just say I'm not too chummy with the people in my cabin."

"But isn't the point of a summer camp to, you know, make friends?"

"I didn't say I don't have any friends." Saiorse held up a hand, pleased to find herself on level ground. "There is this _one_ guy, Percy."

Zoey raised her eyebrows again. "Like, Perseus?"

"Exactly!" Saiorse grinned, pleasantly surprised. "I might make a believer of you yet."

"No promises," Zoey replied, smiling slightly. "It's getting easier to process, though. The one thing I don't get is, if there are enough demigods around to start a _camp_, if there are monsters roaming the cities, and if every Greek god exists somewhere in the world, why haven't I heard about them? Why isn't there a new story everyday in the _New York Times_?"

"There is," Saiorse replied.

"What?"

"If you know where to look. Take earthquakes, for instance." She shook her hands in the air, miming the motion of a shaking planet. "How many of those do you think are _really_ plates shifting around?"

"Um," Zoey said. "All of them?"

"Try again. I'd say about three-quarters are monster attacks, demigods discovering their powers and blowing up half the city. It could be any number of things, especially since we discovered the _other_ Civs."

Zoey looked puzzled. "Civs?"

"I'll let Chiron explain that," Saiorse replied, feeling satisfied with the number of answered questions. "All you need to know, for now, is that there's something called 'The Mist' and it accounts for a lot of human, uh, blindness."

"I guess there's a lot I don't know," Zoey said.

Saiorse grinned. "You don't know the half of it."

They arrived at Camp Half-Blood two hours later and Saiorse couldn't have been happier if Aphrodite climbed down from Olympus and welcomed her home, herself. It had been eleven long months –– almost a year –– what with watching out for Zoey and the two Civ quests before. Quests were the life she loved, the life she'd chosen, but that didn't make homecomings any less sweet.

Sure enough, she could see Chiron on the Big House porch, the moment she climbed the Half-Blood Hill. His hind legs were hidden inside a wheelchair, probably to ensure that Zoey felt as comfortable as possible on her first day; her uncle tended to do that, each time a new camper arrived.

"Welcome Saiorse!" He shouted, as soon as they were within hearing distance. "Welcome Pangerbon. And _welcome_, Zoey Bennet." When they were a bit closer, he added to the newcomer, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

Saiorse tried to disguise her laughter with a cough, but neither Zoey nor Chiron looked fooled.

"Thank you for so carefully escorting her," the latter told her with raised eyebrows. "I've heard something of your, uh, _troubles_ from Mr. Jackson –– he was knocked out during training today and woke up with a few interesting dreams to describe." His eyes, kindly a moment before, flashed with something like worry; another second passed and they were back to normal. "I'd go see him, if I were you. He's been very worried about you. Meanwhile, Zoey and I have a lot of," he grinned in the younger girl's direction, "Catching up to do. If you don't mind..."

The disguised centaur led Zoey towards the Big House door, leaving Saiorse behind. She didn't mind, though: that house had always given her the creeps, even after Rachel Dare replaced the mummified Prophet of Delphi. There was just something about it that felt oppressive, confining. More like a jail than the other cabins –– although not _much_ more than her own.

She turned away from the house, following the sound of swordplay to the combat arena, knowing exactly where to find her best friend. Her chimera cub didn't follow; happy to be home as well, Pangerbon had stalked off toward the forest, looking for the group of nymphs that always fed him kindling. While she walked, alone, Saiorse passed other campers. They nodded in her direction; some even called out, "Glad to have you back" or "Haven't seen you in a while." The exception to this were the members of the Aphrodite Cabin who, when they saw her coming, ran away to form a huddle and began whispering, secretively. Saiorse was used to this, but she sighed anyway. _We're in is a camp made up of freaks_, she wanted to tell them. _It's pointless to make fun of me for being the freakiest. _That didn't matter, she knew; she couldn't change them. But still, it wasn't her fault that she was the only one of Aphrodite's children with any sense.

The entrance to the combat arena rose in front of her and she could hear Riptide swinging and hitting from within. That blade had a very specific song and she knew it almost as well as her own sword's. She felt her pace quicken until she was almost jogging; she sprinted down the dark hallway, rounding the corner, and then ––

"_Percy!_"

She threw herself at him with ferocity, enfolding him in a bone-crushing bear hug. This boy who, though three inches taller than her (in boots), was two years her junior; who had saved the world countless times –– most notably during the Titan War, last summer ––, many of which occurred with her by his side. He had been the first camper to ask her on a quest, the first camper to accept her aloofness and strange need for order. He was her best friend in all the world and she was...she was just so glad to see him again.

"Whoa, girl," Percy laughed, hugging her back. "I missed you too, but do you really have to crush me?"

"Of course," Saiorse teased, releasing him. "How have you been?"

He swung his sword, absentmindedly, tracing circles in the dirt. "I've been good," he told her. "How was the Granite State?"

"Boring, boring, _extra_ boring, _even more _boring. And then a werewolf attacked."

"I saw," Percy replied, his expression turning grave. "And it wasn't one of Lycaon's puppies, was it?"

"No," Saiorse admitted. "It definitely wasn't. We're going to have to call a meeting."

He nodded. "These Civ's are becoming a problem."

"Not all of them," she reminded him. "Just this one. The _Norse._" The word had barely left her mouth when a vivid memory of Fenrir popped into her head. _The Great War is coming_, he'd said.

"Either way," Percy replied, as if he could read her thoughts. "We're going to be paying Rachel a visit."

"Which means," Saiorse agreed, "It's time for another quest."


End file.
